Page 63 of Cadence
The taste of her on my tongue.
I groan, my free hand bracing against the wall, grip tightening.
You agreed. You said one time.
But one time hasn’t left me the fuck alone.
My fist flies up my shaft, my heart hammering against my ribs, my lower lip caught painfully between my teeth.
This isn’t helping. It’s not enough, not without her voice, her sounds, the way she fucking begged for more.
But I know exactly where to find it.
Killing the water, I step out and yank the towel from the hook, running it roughly over my face and chest. The second it’s knotted low on my hips, I’m moving.
If I can’t have her, at least I still have the proof of the one weakness I’ll allow myself.
Steam clings to my skin as I open the door and walk out into the main cabin. Paige is exactly where I left her, curled up on the booth, one leg tucked under her, my notebook still in her hands.
She looks up, and the air shifts, stretches, tightens, I don’t fucking know which, but I feel it everywhere.
Her eyes lock on me again, traveling from my damp hair, down my chest, continuing lower. I grip the front of my towel in my fist, painfully hard and aching, her gaze like a hand trailing along my skin, only igniting the arousal.
I could say something, tease her, run a hand down my abs just to show her I know she’s looking. But I don’t. I’m too fucking hard, too fucking keyed up, that if I stop walking, I’ll bend her over that booth.
Instead, I dart to my bunk, snatch up my laptop, and head into the backroom.
It’s dim, barely lit by the small lamp on the dresser. Tossing the laptop onto the bed, it bounces, and I hit the door with my foot, kicking it shut. Towel still in a death grip, I sit on the edge on the mattress, setting the laptop on my thighs. Myfingers move over the trackpad on their own, locating the file in a heartbeat.
I pause, swallowing thickly, the cursor blinking up at me.
I shouldn’t…
But my cock is rock hard and aching, trying to punch a damn hole through my laptop, desperate for relief…desperate for her.
I double-click without another thought, the program opening with a flourish, the waveform barely a ripple, a few seconds of static at first, then the sound.
Her gasp, her throaty whine as I hear myself ask,“Tell me what you want.”
“Don’t stop,”she replies.
The noise that leaves me isn’t even human as I slide the laptop to the other side of the bed, unwrapping the towel and dropping back against the mattress. The file keeps playing, my voice, her moans, her pleasure echoing in the tight space.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I grip myself harder, pre-cum leaking excessively, the slick arousal fueling my fist flying up my shaft. This is ridiculous to the point of obsession, but it’s all I’ve got. The one thing I let myself keep, the moment Icannotforget.
“You have no idea what your desperate cries do to me.”
A groan rips from my throat as I stroke myself harder, my eyes slamming shut as her voice wraps around me like a sin. Every second of that night rushes back, the memory only becoming more vivid with each playback. Her wetness, her pussy pulsing, my name on her lips.
I don’t even hear her coming in, not at first. It’s the sound of the door creaking open, the light from outside slicing in, her breath catching.
My eyes snap open, landing on her in the doorway, face red and wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling like she ran the entire length of the bus just to get here.
I freeze, but make no move to cover up, no move to stop the recording still playing.
Let her see.
